


Will you still call me Superman?

by QuillpenKeyboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is shy, M/M, stiles talks A LOT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillpenKeyboard/pseuds/QuillpenKeyboard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek grows up in the same town as Stiles.  Their paths naturally cross a bit, before werewolves even make an appearance.</p><p>Laura is a horrible sister, Derek does stupid things, and Stiles is not always where he's supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will you still call me Superman?

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so: this is my first fanfic ever and my first time writing non-technical papers in several years. I'm sure it sucks, but if you could limit your agony to constructive criticism it would be super cool.
> 
> I have no idea how many chapters this will be, but I expect ~5-8 more, about the same length as this one.
> 
> They start out as small kids but there's not going to be anything sexual or even romantic really until contemporary with the show.

Laura is a pain in Derek’s ass.  He gets that she’s in high school now, really he does.  But that doesn’t mean that she has the right to requisition his school stuff budget as well as her own and pawn off her spare supplies from last year on him.  Especially not when they are all at least one of the following:

 

  * pink

  * purple

  * decorated with flowers

  * decorated with kittens

  * feathery

  * fluffy




 

Also, at least half of them are glittery, which makes Derek sneeze every time he gets near them.  He’s twelve, gangly and brace-faced and shy, and although he could easily enough clean the floor with anyone who messes with him, he’s not allowed to- werewolves being kind of under the radar for most people.  Middle school sucks enough without people thinking he’s girly, too.  He has to get new stuff.

 

He’s not technically supposed to go out on his own, but his dad’s taken Cora to get her last booster shots that she needs before kindergarten, and his mom and Peter are at work, and his grandparents and aunt have dragged the triplets and Krissie to the zoo, and Laura is volunteering at the library, and Derek isn’t stupid enough to ignore opportunity knocking this loudly.  So he takes some of his Christmas money (he’ll make it up by not getting Laura a present this year, he figures) and bikes in to town.

 

It’s the middle of August, and the back-to-school sales have been running since the Fourth of July.  The selection is picked over, but Derek finds a few inoffensive notebooks and folders.  One has the bat symbol on the front which probably wouldn’t seem so worth it if he hadn’t been faced with the horror of the alternative already.

 

The kid behind him in the checkout line is probably about Cora’s age and bouncing off the walls.  He catches sight of Derek’s batman notebook and freezes.  A slow, maniacal grin spreads across the kid’s face as he stares at Derek, and Derek shifts uncomfortably.  The kid bounces on his toes and in launches into an excited burst of words.

 

“You like Batman too?!!  He’s my favorite!  He’s the awesomest of all of the superheroes!  He should be the boss of them and tell them all what to do because he’s smarter than they are because he figured out how to make his own powers and stuff!   One day I’m going to build stuff so I can have superpowers on purpose too!  All the other superheroes were just lucky, I think!  Peter Parker didn’t have to be Spider-Man because if someone else had got bit by the spider then they would have been Spider-Man!  Or Spider-Woman, I guess.  Or, Superman could have got sent to a different planet, and not been Superman.” The kid takes a breath and continues apace.  Derek swallows dumbly and slides his finds onto the conveyor under a barrage of information he never cared about. At all.

 

The kid doesn’t seem to be attached to anyone else in the line- at least, none of them smell like him as far as Derek can tell.  The cashier seems completely unperturbed by this, taking Derek’s money and giving him back his change without batting an eye at the unending stream of chatter coming from below the scanner.

 

The kid seems to be intending to follow him out of the store, though, once Derek’s ready to go, so he finally interrupts at one of the kid’s unbelievably infrequent breaths, and asks, “Where’s your mom?”

 

The kid blinks blankly at him, derailed.  Derek watches realization wash over his face, the kid turning and scanning the store hopefully, disappointment creeping in as no one familiar appears.

 

“She’s here,” he tells Derek.  “She wouldn’t leave without me.  She probably forgot something and had to go back to get it.  She says she has a forgettery instead of a memory sometimes.”  The kid’s features waver so briefly Derek almost misses it.

 

Derek has a brief internal debate about the importance of getting home before anyone realizes he’s gone versus making sure the kid finds his mom okay,and hates himself a little for being moral in the face of grounding.  Still, he crouches down to eye level to reassure the kid.

 

“I’ll help you find her,” he promises.  He takes a deep breath, getting a feel for the kid’s scent, then sifts through the weaker smells wafting through the store until he finds a similar one, over in the candy aisle.

 

“Let’s go look over here,” he suggests.  The kid follows him happily enough, and Derek tracks his mom around the corner to where she’s now gazing at a bag of oreos like it’s the first time she’s seen one.

 

“Mom!” the kid yelps, pelting over to her.

 

She looks down at him in surprise “Stiles!  Where have you been?”

 

“I made a friend!” he smiles cheerfully, pointing at Derek.

 

“I see,” she says.  “And who is your friend?”

 

The kid shuffles a bit.  “um-”

 

“Derek,” interrupts Derek.  “Derek Hale.  I really have to go now, though.  Glad you found your mom, Stiles!”  He gives an awkward half-wave and hurries back out to the front of the store.

 

Derek rides faster than he ever has before on the way home, and is still out of breath and sweaty when he hears his dad’s car coming along the driveway.  But he’s got his purchases tucked safely into his backpack for next Monday, and he’s cementing the feeling of usefulness he got from using his wolf to help the kid- Stiles.

  
He wonders, in a small part of his brain, what Stiles would think of werewolves.  There’s no earning it- it’s random chance, as Stiles said about anything bitten or born.  But, he argues to himself: it’s his choice how he uses his abilities, and he can get better with practice.  So he has some choice.  He still likes Batman better though.


End file.
